


Unconventional Interests

by oldmenfucker98 (mentalismmaria)



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Birth, Cum Inflation, Gen, Impregnation, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Mpreg, Trans Character, alien breeding machines, characters having weird kinks, loose alien medical kink, mentions of needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mentalismmaria/pseuds/oldmenfucker98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim finds out how eridian babies are made in this wholesome tale just in time for the holidays. merry christmas, its alien breeding machine porn</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconventional Interests

Tim wasn’t keen on digging through Tycho’s Ribs again after everything that went down in the vault not more than a week ago, but Jack hadn’t been in the mood to negotiate. While Jack was recovering from his wounds, the body double’s ECHO was mercifully quiet, at least. He’d take the peace and quiet of this haunting ruin over spending another minute with that man, still hysterical from pain and anger when he’d last saw him. Looking at Jack now made his face hurt. Tim wasn’t sure how he was going to look at himself the same way, either.

The Eridian hallways were cold, and mostly empty. Between him, Wilhelm and Nisha they’d finished wiping out the rest of Zarpedon’s troops after their initial incursion. Now, only the occasional Eridian guardian spawned to attack him. A seemingly endless supply of them kept him on his toes. It wouldn’t be for much longer though; he had been tasked with finding out how these things were made and shutting down whatever it was, once and for all. R&D’s information told him it was going to be like a digistructor. The Eridian foes he’d been killing in waves weren’t really _alive_ , as much as they were just constructs. It helped Tim stomach the slaughter, if only a little bit. They were spawning in quicker succession now but by then he was overpowered in comparison, armed with the strongest shock weapons at his disposal, cutting through them like a hot knife through butter. As a rule of thumb he figured he must be getting close. The guardians were very keen on slowing him down as much as possible.

The last room at the end of the hall was a pain to get through, with a seemingly endless barrage of Eridian foes. They were mostly weak, smaller and almost underdeveloped, like they had sacrificed strength for numbers. They stopped coming in abruptly after the first couple of waves. Tim didn’t think much of that, but when he finally broke into the room they were guarding it became obvious. The doppelganger’s boots slid slightly on something slick on the floor, splattered everywhere. It was thick and purple, and reminded him of blood, but… these things didn’t have blood, didn’t they?

A row of large and intimidating machines, familiarly alien and incomprehensible in typical Eridian fashion, seemed gutted and empty. Frosted over like most of the dead machinery here. Only one seemed to still be glowing with the hum of Eridian energy, opened up to reveal that the source of the fluid was a horrible, dripping thing slumped in it. Like someone had tossed a giant, deflated beach ball halfway into a garbage bin. Only the ball was dripping lord only knows what out of a stretched orifice, hooked up to the machine in various ways. Screens and control panels Tim couldn’t understand if he tried were flashing red symbols in a universal sign of ‘this is broken.’ He was morbidly curious, if not nauseated, by the broken machinery. He had an inkling of what it was already. It certainly explained why the spawns had stopped so abruptly.

Poking around the room didn’t explain much more, other than the structure of the machines looked very vaguely like it was meant for a person to fit in. It explained why the awful blob inside seemed so ill-fitting and pathetic within. Tim didn’t _like_ delving into more private knowledge he had, but alone he could note the raised leg stirrups and the gentle incline of the device. His face heated up in the chill of the ruins. It was a basically a chair meant to give birth in. but what was in it was definitely _not_ a person.

Before he could investigate further, the familiar sound of the teleport pads made his hackles rise. He fumbled with his laser rifle, trying to get his head back in the game but his numb fingers dropped the gun with a clatter. The Eridians barely noticed. They were unarmed, similar to the Ophas he had encountered before, without the unsettling stomachs they usually had. Things were clicking into place; of course a glorified construct breeding chamber would have dedicated caretakers. Of course they’d come in after whatever womb-like thing they had in place finally broke down. They lifted the organ out of its resting place, the dead thing spilling one last gush of fluid from being disturbed, and carted it to what seemed to be a disposal unit. It was fascinating to just… watch these beings after spending so long mindlessly fighting them. Tim wondered if he would have gotten the chance to see this if his teammates were here. He probably wouldn’t have been able to stay in the room with them. Not when he _knew_ what the device was being used for. And just imagining what happened to make it break down, with all those guardians he fought beforehand… His legs went a bit weak, knocking together as he tried not to dwell too much on that. He’d certainly _read_ about similar scenarios, but seeing a breeding chamber in real life was something else entirely. If only he could have seen it in action….

Tim snooped around, curious. A little nauseated, but also anticipating finding out more about what was going on. He was _very_ glad to be alone now, red-faced, stomach in a knot from being turned on so quickly and the gut reaction he was used to having from this stuff. Of all things, it had to be _this_ kink. And he thought the Ophas were a low blow. The caretakers seemed to be in a lull after their task was finished. Being robots, Tim could understand they just… didn’t have further orders. That fake womb must have been the only one they had. Did that mean his job was finished? Were there no other sources of guardians in the whole ruin? No, that couldn’t have been right. This was probably just one of many breeding chambers. There was probably a whole line of those things with live participants, in their heyday. Specially trained Eridians, locked in place and willingly helping mass-produce an entire army. Tim squeezed his legs together with a shudder. He definitely had something to dwell on when he got back to his room in Helios. Now that his task was apparently finished, he had that to look forward to now. As he turned to leave, he tried to mind that the floor was still slick and failed, boots scraping against the hard, wet floor, a hand slamming down on a control panel in an attempt to stop his fall. The screen above it lit up ominously. The caretakers turned their grotesquely long necks and gazed at him with awful, emotionless doll faces. Oh no…

He backed away from them cautiously as they approached in a slow, relatively nonthreatening manner. Surely these constructs weren’t meant for combat… though everything about Eridian technology did seem to be weaponized in itself. One of them scanned his nervous face and trembling body with a pink light, reminding him of the Hyperion bioscans. The Eridians trilled amongst each other, communicating briefly. They didn’t advance on Tim like he feared; instead one of them placidly walked up next to the breeding device while the other manned the control panels, and they waited. On Tim. At least, that’s what gut instinct told him, and a little bit of his more private, perverse imagination. The scan they did made sense, in retrospect. He _did_ have the right equipment to do this; did they would assume he was the replacement for their machine?

Maybe it should have taken Tim more deliberation before he climbed into the chair. On one hand, he had no idea just how these things were _used_ ; for all he knew, they weren’t meant to use humans on them at all. On the other hand… it couldn’t have been any worse than working for Jack. The chair was meant for humanoid occupants, not artificial stand-ins. There were even two, specially designed caretakers looking after him, presumably taking care of his health needs. He was just… curious. He wanted to try it out.

Even though it was cold in the room, Tim took his pants off in preparation for what was about to unfold. He shivered at the breath of chilly air on his bare crotch, the bit of moisture from between his legs cooling from the exposure. The machine was as cold as ice, and he was loath to sit on it. the seat portion mostly accommodating his tailbone as he lifted his legs in the correct position. The Opha was patient with him, offering to lift his legs up for him, helping him get comfortable. Tim wondered if they had humans do this before. With Zarpedon’s forces, who knew? They seemed to have adapted to living with these creatures. Maybe some of them had to ‘use’ this machine, before he and his comrades had to wipe them out.

With an alien whirr, the chair turned back on, resetting itself. Adjusting to a new occupant. Restraints closed around his legs and arms, but they didn’t seem to be here to trap him in the thing. The Opha assistant plugged him in properly; something cold was attached to the insides of his thighs, and they stayed there. They reminded Tim of EKG electrodes. The Eridian measurement of his vital signs came up at the controls across from him. The Ophas worked the controls, either not caring or not noticing that he was a complete stranger, or even an intruder. He was just another breeder to them now. The thought made his heart rate and temperature rise on the screen, and the Ophas noticed. Tim’s heart only beat faster as an inquisitive Eridian approached, only for it to open a panel next to him. Another portion of the machine turned on, showing several nozzles, one of which snaked out; the smallest one. The attachment on the end was phallic in only the vaguest sense of word, tapered but with a flare near the end that Tim could tell immediately was bigger than what few things had been inside him before. His thighs tensed in anticipation, feeling himself throb in arousal before the tip of the implement was even brushed up against his entrance. It was mercifully warm and soft, like a real dick.  The knot slipped into him with only a little trouble, eliciting a wince from him. The Opha before him placed a cool, alien hand on his bare leg, and watched over him during the process.

The phallus in him hit the end of his birth canal with a mild jab. It stayed there for a bit, unmoving save for the occasional vibration as power pulsed in purple streaks down its length. Tim was starting to wonder if something was wrong before a sharper jab in the pit of his stomach made him grunt and stir in his restraints. The nozzle was trying to penetrate his cervix with the narrow tip, and it felt like he was being outright pierced on the inside before the pain gave way to adrenaline and arousal. He felt waves of warmth as his heart rate slowed on the monitor, and if he wasn’t restrained he would have started touching himself then and there, the stretch of the thing inside him teasing him and making him clench around it. He pulsed around it again as he felt a warm gush, barely noticeable at first, until he felt the sensation of being filled up. His flat stomach rose slowly, steadily, until the thing pumping into him clicked off and continued to stay lodged within him. The knot was keeping whatever filled his womb firmly inside, leaving Tim with the pressure of a modestly bloated stomach. He jerked his hips up in spite of himself, wanting at least some friction or sensation or just something to get off to. Possibly taking his movements the wrong way, the Opha pulled the hose out, leaving the attachment lodged in him. Another tube was pulled out of the machine to fasten to the phallic nozzle with a click; it stirred as it began pumping something different into him, the knot keeping the warm contents from spilling out as pressure mounted. Tim tried not to make any noise but he let out a quiet half-moan, rolling his hips to adjust to the added weight inside of him.

He had to stay with the attachment inside him for a few minutes, unable to do much but squirm with the need to be touched until the Eridians watching over him decided it was time to remove the nozzle. It was pulled out of him with a pop and a cut-off moan from the body double. Whatever they filled him with began to gush out and into a convenient trough that had opened up just under his exposed rear. Craning his head to look over the more deflated swell of his belly he could see that the substance was lavender in color, thicker and milkier than regular human seed. Eridians sure were fond of purple.

There was a lull in activity now, as the two Ophas carefully monitored Tim and his vitals. The machine had powered down to the point that the restraints on his arms detached, though his legs were still secure in an obscene spread. It wasn’t as cold in the room as it used to be, between the man’s arousal and the running machinery. Tim took the newfound freedom to furiously jerk off before they bound his arms again. His stomach still had a feeling of fullness to it, and it was even better than he had imagined. And he _had_ imagined it, often. It was one of those fantasies that he could only really dream about rather than explore in real life. How could he? He was a vault hunter, as well as Jack’s double, and there was absolutely no way he could take up surrogacy ‘for the experience’ now. But _Eridian_ surrogacy? That wasn’t in his contract. He could chalk this up to a mishap during his mission if he had to.

There was a definitely new weight in Tim’s womb that he focused on; something growing gradually and applying pressure on the inside that made him cum before he could really get into pleasuring himself. He was still pulsing and wet and ready for more, and even more ready to see where this went. His stomach had taken the same swell it did when it was full of cum. As he rubbed its surface he could feel how firm and full his womb was and, well, he already needed to jerk off again just from that. The Eridians didn’t seem to mind, though they were keeping an eye on him. Tim idly wondered if anyone else used these things and just started jacking off. Maybe.

Tim began to feel more consistent shapes form within his belly as he pressed down against the swell. He could feel them knocking against his flat palm and bumping into the walls of his womb; vaguely reminding him of someone making popcorn. As the Eridian spawn grew, his stomach rose and felt tighter, straining against the pressure. It was tight as a drum, and he could see and feel it stretch beyond what he could consider healthy, but they still grew. It had no signs of stopping. Even worse, his stomach was starting to become too obstructive for him to be able to reach around to masturbate. Tim whimpered in pain, and caught the attention of the aliens watching over him.

The Ophas were diligent, inspecting his alien pregnancy, trilling amongst each other, possibly talking about him. There seemed to be some deliberation between them before one of them activated another part of the machine, and Tim began to squirm uncomfortably as something that looked like an IV was prepared. They steadied him, gentle and calm in their movements, taking care not to upset him and his tight, turbulent middle as they found a vein in his arm to inject it in. Tim could barely wonder if they had previous experience with human anatomy before, between the movement of his stomach and the sting of the needle. He tried to stay calm; they were looking after him, after all. They were treating him better than that artificial womb, at the very least. And he was the only volunteer they seemed to have, now. Maybe that meant they were taking extra care of him?

Something glowing and purplish began to make its way down the IV drip, leaving a disconcerting purple tinge to the veins in his forearm. The feeling of being stretched to his limit began to lessen; it felt less like he was going to pop, at least. His stomach had long since escaped the confines of his Hyperion-issued shirt, rolling it up to his chest to show off the stretch-marked, tanned dome that was now beginning to obscure his vision. Whatever they injected him with was helping his body cope with the sudden growth, allowing him to swell beyond any human capacity. It was getting, in Tim’s mind, almost ridiculous. He looked like a pregnant man about to drop no less than ten children, and from the way the contents of his womb moved and shifted into place he likely was.

The clench of his taut, straining stomach muscles caught Tim off guard; he was stuck in a lull somewhere between a drugged haze and paternal bliss. It kept him from panicking as his waters broke with a gush that splashed past the trough provided and onto the cold floor. There was no intense pain, but incredible pressure on his pelvis and an ache from his contracting stomach as his body worked overtime to give birth. This moment was usually conveniently left out of his usual fantasies; he wasn’t very keen on the concept of passing something far too big out of a hole far too small, unless it was a multitude of something small and manageable. These weren’t, however, and they rammed against his cervix mercilessly. Even if the initial pain was dulled, the feeling of something so large moving down was painfully overwhelming, though Tim could feel the aching need and the gush of moisture from arousal, mingling with the amniotic fluids. The Eridians just watched. They weren’t just keeping an eye on his health; they were judging his worth as a breeder.

Panic was dulled by whatever they were feeding directly into his bloodstream, letting Tim focus more on timing his pushing with his contractions. The alien brood stretching open his birth canal was roughly the size of a human child, he figured, though he certainly couldn’t see over his overfull stomach. He just had to get it out of him. And, to a lesser extent, get off; a nagging desire in the back of his head. If he could have reached around his belly to touch himself, he probably would have. Was this normal for everyone put in these things, or just him? Was having a hard-on for being bred a normal part of the process?

Tim outright moaned when he felt the thing inside him crown, stretching him open farther than he ever imagined, but still managing to feel so good. It slipped out of him easily at that point, into a waiting Opha’s creepy hands. Something wet and cylindrical; similar to those Putti things the Ophas produced within them. Another of his alien spawn was lined up against his cervix, ready to start the process all over, but it was easier this time. He felt stretched and gaped open, but accommodating for the next birth. The Eridians inspected the first of his brood. Tim couldn’t concentrate on them much between the need to push and the increasingly satisfying feeling of the Eridian young making progress. He could barely tell that the second Putti slipped out of him onto a new kind of collection trough, one that moved it down the line like a conveyor belt. The Ophas were still adjusting it, getting it to line up with his swollen vulva so he birthed directly into it.

At a certain point Tim lost count of the number of Eridians he bore. As he progressed his body preternaturally adapted to it. Each birth was easier than the last, and in turn they came out faster until they felt back to back, keeping him stretched wide open. The constant movement stimulated him in ways he’d never imagined; between the haze of arousal, drugs and pleasure he was free to just shut off and cum, and cum, and cum. Every bone in his body felt like it was made of jelly, and every muscle he had ached from exertion, but he was so lightheaded he didn’t care. Sweat practically steamed off of his heated body as he moaned, clenching rhythmically around more of his spawn, fluids gushing out periodically along with it. Tim barely registered the pressure easing up or his stomach deflating, until it was small enough he could touch himself again. He jerked off one last time as the final Puttis were birthed with a last inkling of force that made them splash against the back of the collector. At least, he was done. The body double panted with exertion, the entire area between his legs feeling numb and overworked.

An Opha brought out a new nozzle, something without a knot meant to lodge in him. The alien gently held it up to the exhausted man’s face until he got the picture and took the tip into his mouth. A gentle stream of something thick and satisfying dribbled out of it as he sucked, feeling parched and ravenous from the ordeal. The taste was hard to describe, subtle and almost milky. The hose retracted when he had his fill and spat it out, feeling a little more sober and energetic afterwards. Tim looked around himself, seeing how extensively he ended up being hooked up to the machine. The IV in his arm was still pumping something into him, and the purple in his veins was starting to creep up his arm. He would have been disturbed, but between his exhaustion and satisfaction that response was muted.

A less addled, responsible part of him told him it was time to go home now. He had to get back to Jack and tell him he finished his mission, preferably conveniently leaving out details of _all this_ that just happened. Between the feeling of bonelessness and fatigue he wasn’t in a hurry, though. The chair just felt… so comfortable. He wasn’t cold at all anymore, in fact the room seemed to be steaming, walls lighting up with power and activity. His brood seemed to be getting their production working again. The screens above the alien control panels were lit up, still displaying his vitals in their language. Were they always flashing green? He couldn’t remember, but they were now, in a universal symbol of ‘this is perfect’.

Before he could properly react, the breeding chamber powered up again, the system of hoses that impregnated him again snaking out automatically, finding his recently-used snatch by memory. The nozzle popped easier in this time, making the doppelganger moan and stir. The amount of fluids pumped into him was smaller this time; process seemed to be streamlining itself for maximum efficiency with his body. Before he knew it they had him plugged up again, the combined fluids impregnating him anew.

Tim would have protested, but… he also desperately needed to jerk off all over again.


End file.
